The Calling
by DC Lady
Summary: Wonder Woman loses her powers and seeks training from Batman. BMWW
1. Chapter 1

Thank you Djinn, Heybats, and Athena Phoenix for the beta.

**NOTE (Please read to better follow the story):** I wanted to go back in DC time to tell a story when our heroes were young and somewhat naïve. Therefore, in this story, Dick Grayson is ten years old and is Batman's partner Robin. Wonder Woman is still fairly new to Patriarch's world and its customs, having only been here for a few short months. I'm using mostly the 'Trinity' universe, but will also implement some story elements of Gotham Knights and Wonder woman Volume 1 Issue 1.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own much, but if I owned any of these characters, I'd probably own a heck of a lot more.

**

* * *

****The Calling  
**_By DC Lady_

It was dark and cold. Once, she'd been impervious to both, now she shivered as she walked beneath the dim and broken street lights that cast uneven shadows in her path. She'd taken the only shelter that she could afford after leaving the embassy -- after her duties as Themysciran Ambassador were taken from her. Now she walked these filthy streets trying to clear her mind. Planning her new life.

A life away from Themyscira.

Her breath hitched as unbidden memories of home flooded through her. She exhaled in a puff of white as the cold air met the warmth of her breath, and the realization of her plight took hold. She missed her home -- her mother, her sisters. But, in her short time in man's world, she'd discovered a sense of purpose that had eluded her on the small island. She'd always been loved, but now she was needed. She had a destiny to fulfill, whether the gods approved or not. She'd won her title. She was Wonder Woman.

She slowed to a stop, remembering when she'd first arrived in Patriarch's world as Wonder Woman, investigating a nuclear submarine explosion near Themyscira. She'd falsely accused Superman of carelessness, and recalled her relief when he explained that he hadn't been the cause of the explosion. She was instantly smitten -- captivated by his passion for justice which rivaled her own.

But now, Diana began to doubt her decision to remain in this world -- doubted her motivations when she refused the gods' command to return home. They'd felt that she'd lost her way and was settling into the customs and attractions of this world.

But, had she lost her way? Had she let her personal feelings guide her mission? She touched the lasso that remained steady under her coat. Would it even work for her now that she was devoid of the blessings of her Amazon heritage -- searching for deceit in the secret corners of her heart?

She sighed, resuming her walk. Listening as her heels clicked on the cold, damp pavement, echoing in the silence of the night. It was late and she was alone. She'd never been this vulnerable. Closing her coat tightly against the winter cold, she trembled in discomfort at the elements -- a constant reminder of what she now was: a mortal woman.

The hint of movement ...

The gods had taken away her power, but her instincts had not diminished. She was a trained warrior -- trained from birth. So, when the uneasiness of the night hit her gut with a familiar dread -- a dread she'd often felt before battle -- she was immediately on the defensive. Danger was within reach, and she braced herself as the sound of footfalls echoed behind her.

Calling upon her Amazonian training, she decided the element of surprise would be her weapon. As the yet unseen assailant closed in on her proximity, she abruptly stopped and turned -- obtaining a much needed advantage as the thug took an instinctive step backwards.

He was a big man, whose attire told a story of drugs and desperation, and her anger boiled at his willingness to take advantage of the helpless for his own selfish needs. She also smirked inwardly at his pending doom -- she wasn't helpless.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I ain't lookin' for no trouble." His gaze shifted from side to side. "Just hand over the cash and no body gets hurt." When he seemed certain that they were alone, he pulled out a knife and held it up in warning.

"Is that supposed to scare me? Or does possessing such a weapon make you feel like a man? A man who preys upon helpless women in the middle of the night?"

The thug was nervous.

"Just hand over the cash, bitch. I ain't got time for no naggin'."

She took a step toward him and grinned, like a hungry tiger circling her prey. "Then, let us put an end to this."

Grabbing his wrist with both hands, she cracked it upon her knee, causing the knife to fly from his grasp and hitting the cold pavement with a metallic ping. He threw awkward and clumsy punches, trying to make contact with any part of her body. Rolling onto the ground, she escaped the impending blows, springing again to her feet. Her agility seemed to surprise him, and she used his hesitation to knee him in the groin, and then followed with a swift kick to his face as he doubled over in pain -- sending him backwards onto the grimy pavement.

For a moment, all was still.

With hands on her hips, she inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. She wasn't used to the exertion level of her now mortal body, and was distracted -- and thus surprised when he grabbed her from behind.

He pulled her tightly to his broad chest, and pressed the knife against the flesh of her neck. "Bitch! Don't move or I'll cut you good," he said, riffling through her purse with his free hand.

"I don't think so." The thug froze when a form in red and blue hovered in front of him.

Dropping the knife, the thug stumbled away, only to find Superman now blocking his escape. He lowered his head, apparently trying to bowl over Superman, but only managed to knock himself unconscious. Ripping a parking meter out of the sidewalk, Superman used it to secure the attacker to a lamppost. He then turned to Diana, who was busily rubbing her arms trying to stimulate much needed warmth through her limbs.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She was ashamed. Ashamed that she needed him to rescue her from a common thug. She was Wonder Woman. She belonged in the sky at his side, not here in the gutters requiring his aid.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice trembled slightly from the cold.

He unfastened his cape, placing it around her shoulders. "I could ask you the same thing. I went to your quarters at the Embassy after you called. They said you'd left." When she wouldn't meet his gaze, he lifted her chin with his hand. "I've been looking for you for hours. They said you remained in the city, but didn't leave a forwarding address."

"The gods have rescinded my ambassadorship. I no longer hold an official title to remain at the Embassy. I left this morning."

"When you called, you told me that you'd lost your powers. What exactly happened?"

She frowned. "The gods felt that my presence here in man's world was not garnering the attention they desired for themselves, and became jealous when my name became known above theirs. So, they called me home. When I refused, my powers were stripped from me."

"Why would they do such a thing? Can't they see the good you've done?"

She smiled sadly. "Their goal was to obtain this world's adoration. My accomplishments meant very little to them."

"I see," he said.

The silence was awkward.

He took in the surroundings, and Diana could tell that he was using his enhanced vision to see the goings on in this less than savory neighborhood. He frowned as he rubbed his brow. "Diana, do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes, Kal. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

He glanced over at the thug secured to the lamppost. "I can see that."

Her face grew hot in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "I would have obtained the advantage. I merely underestimated my new level of strength. I will learn to adjust my technique."

He folded his arms across his chest. "How?"

"What?" His question took her by surprise.

"How will you learn to adjust?"

"I'm not a novice, Kal. I'm a warrior, trained for generations by great warriors."

His tone softened. "You're a highly skilled fighter, Diana. I'm not questioning your abilities. But you need help. Someone who can teach you to use the skills you've acquired with the level of strength you now have."

She slipped the cape from her shoulders, handing it back to him. "I _can_ take care of myself." She turned to leave.

He put his hand to her shoulder and her resolve faltered at the warmth and caring she felt from a simple touch. "Diana, you can't do this alone."

She turned to face him. "I have no other choice. The gods have abandoned me. I will not, in turn, abandon my mission."

"I'm not asking you to abandon your mission. Just let us help you."

Her brow creased in confusion. "Us?"

"Myself… Bruce. If you let us."

She laughed. "Bruce? Bruce doesn't approve of me."

"He's never said that, Diana. Bruce admires you."

"He can barely stay in the same room with me for more than a few minutes at a time, Kal. How can you say that he admires me?"

"Well, Bruce isn't much of a people person. It's his charm, really."

She raised her eyebrow in amusement. "Really?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, no," he said. "But I know he cares, he just doesn't like to show it." He saw her skepticism and continued, "Why else would he fight with us?"

"And just what can he teach me that I don't already know?"

"A lot, actually. I'm still learning a thing or two from him myself. Setting aside the fact that he's a brilliant detective, he knows every martial arts technique there is and then some. And he's not super powered." Superman fastened the cape to his shoulders. "Let's face it, Diana. Do you know of anyone else who can hold his own against super--powered beings?"

She shook her head. "He'd never agree to help."

"I'll take care of it. But first things first. Where are you staying?"

"Up the street." She nodded toward the trash--lined street to her less than favorable hotel.

He sighed. "You can't stay there. It's not safe."

She lowered her head. She felt like a child, lost and alone, dependent upon the kindness of friends and strangers.

"I have no place else to go," she whispered hoarsely.

"Come on. Let's go and get your things. We'll call the police and let them know of our friend, here, then I'll take you to a hotel uptown." He held a hand up and stopped her protests. "At least until we can sort through this."

"You don't have to do this," she said.

"You're not alone, Diana. We'll figure something out."

* * *

Small shadows flittered across the expanse of the cave as the bats stirred from their perches, signaling his presence. Then Clark noticed a larger shadow that loomed in the distance, sitting quietly on his throne in the dark. He'd never understood the calmness the dark invoked in Bruce -- a darkness that Bruce had embraced. 

"What are you doing here, Superman?" It was Bruce Wayne who spoke, sitting at the massive Cray computer, dressed in a tuxedo with his tie pulled loose. Clark smirked, thinking that he'd never seen Bruce in the cave without the cape and cowl.

"Just getting back from a party?" Clark asked.

"I don't think you're here to inquire about my personal activities. What do you want?"

He sighed at Bruce's abrasive tone and flew to the computer platform to face him. "Are you always this rude to guests?"

"Only to uninvited ones."

Clark had learned to ignore Bruce's abrasive manner -- they were friends, of this he had no doubt. But, sometimes Bruce pushed the limits of his patience.

"I'll make this quick then -- she needs your help." He stood his ground, arms folded. Diana's survival in this world depended on Bruce's cooperation.

"Does my reputation reach as far as Metropolis?" He remained focused on his task as he spoke.

Clark could feel the heat rising in his face, both from embarrassment and frustration at Bruce's nonchalant attitude. "You know who and what I mean, Bruce."

Bruce swiveled his chair to face Clark, and steepled his fingers to his lips. "I don't see how I can be of help. I can't restore her powers. She should have gone home."

"Maybe. But she didn't. She wants to stay. Wants to make a difference."

Bruce laughed. Clark didn't think he'd ever heard Bruce laugh before. But he knew this laugh wasn't one he'd want to hear again.

"Just how does she intend to do that?" Bruce asked.

"You do it. Why do you think she can't?"

"Because she depends too much on her powers and her ties to her past."

"She knows she needs help. Who better to teach her, train her, than you?"

Bruce closed his eyes in apparent thought, then stood to face Clark. "Why don't you train her? I'm sure you'd both prefer that arrangement."

Clark's anger flared at the insinuation. "What are you implying?"

Bruce gave him a smug look before walking past him. "Don't be coy, Clark. It doesn't suit you."

Clark followed him -- he always seemed to be following this man. "Okay, I admit to an attraction. Who wouldn't be attracted to her -- she's Wonder Woman. But there's nothing else."

Bruce turned to face him at the foot of the stairs leading to the mansion. "Are you sure?"

"Does it really make a difference?" Clark asked. "Why are you suddenly interested in my love life, anyway?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Clark. If I'm to train her, there can be no outside influences, especially from you."

"And am I such a bad influence, Bruce? The only reason I don't train her is because, like her, I depend on my powers. There's nothing she can learn from me." Clark was angry and frustrated, and then more than just a little relieved when he realized that Bruce was setting the ground rules for training Diana.

"That's why you're a bad influence. You're a reminder of what she once was." Bruce began his climb to the Manor. "Have her come to the Manor tomorrow morning. I'll tell her of my decision then."

He disappeared behind the door, leaving Clark alone in the cave. Clark rose up into the air using his enhanced vision to navigate in the darkness, thinking that as confrontations with Bruce went, this wasn't as bad as he'd expected.

* * *

Diana shifted uncomfortably while waiting for Batman, and she wasn't certain why she was apprehensive. Kal had said that he'd spoken with him and was reasonably sure he would help her to achieve the skills necessary to continue her mission. But she was uncertain, and she didn't know if it was because Batman might not help her, or that he actually would. 

She'd never before been trained by a man -- a mortal, no less. And although she'd considered Batman to be an important ally in her quest, she questioned his methods, and even his motives. He wasn't like Kal, whose abilities and methods were so much like her own. But she had to admit that she'd never taken the time to know Batman's motivations -- to know who he was beyond the mask.

She turned at the clearing of a throat to find Bruce's servant carrying a service tray of tea.

"Master Bruce will be down shortly, ma'am." He placed the tray on a small table and motioned her toward a seat. "I thought you might like some tea while you wait."

"Thank you…Alfred, isn't it?"

"Yes, miss." He poured the tea and handed her a cup, to which she promptly added a teaspoon of sugar.

"Are you Ba…Bruce's servant?" She wasn't used to calling Batman by his given name.

"Yes, madam. I am his butler. I've been in service to the Wayne family since before Master Bruce was born."

"That is a long time. They must treat you well." She smiled and took a sip of her tea.

"Yes, ma'am. That they did."

She looked up from over her cup, curious at his use of the past tense in his answer. But before she could raise her question, she noticed Bruce standing quietly at the door -- watching.

"Were you planning on greeting me, or do you prefer to watch?" She stood as he approached.

"You'd be surprised at what you can learn by watching," he replied.

"And what have you learned?"

His gaze fell upon her hair, which hung loosely at her shoulders, and for a moment he didn't move. Then he began to circle around her, inspecting her from head to toe -- methodically, almost mechanically in nature. Gauging her appearance.

"You have expensive tastes, Princess," he said, coming full circle to stand in front of her. He knew a thing or two about women's designer clothing, it seemed.

"I'm not sure if there's a compliment in there somewhere, but I thank you anyway," she said.

He reached out and took her hand in his, and she expected him to kiss it -- as countless men had done, mostly at boring social functions she'd attended as the Themysciran Ambassador. But she was surprised when he grabbed the sleeve of her blouse, tearing the delicate fabric up to her elbow, exposing Wonder Woman's silver bracelet.

He dropped her arm and turned away. "Lesson number one, Princess -- you are no longer Wonder Woman. Those bracelets will attract bullets from thugs looking to test your abilities. Unless you're as proficient in deflecting bullets as before, lose them."

"Why, you insolent man!"

"And you aren't royalty, either. Not anymore. So lose the regal snobbery."

She turned to leave. "I did not come here to be insulted. I thought you would help me."

"I am helping you."

"By offending me?"

He walked past her and stopped at the door. "If you do as I say, it just may keep you alive." He turned to Alfred before leaving. "Show her _highness_ downstairs. We'll begin with the basics."

"Yes sir." Alfred turned to Diana. "This way, miss."

Diana had no intention of following Batman's bidding, but Kal's words echoed in her mind, "You need help, Diana."

She looked at Alfred, who stood waiting. She swallowed her pride and then followed his lead.

Bruce knew she wouldn't leave; her pride wouldn't allow it. Her devotion to Clark and his concern for her well being wouldn't allow it either. He wasn't certain which carried more weight. It didn't matter. If she was serious about continuing her role as Wonder Woman, then he would teach her how to survive. She was, after all, a talented warrior. She could be of use.

He heard the click of the door and watched as Alfred guided her to the foot of the stairs, where he waited.

"Here. You can change in there." He handed her a package and motioned toward a room to the right of the uniform vault.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Workout clothes."

Without a word, she took the package and walked to the dressing room.

When Diana was out of earshot, Alfred stepped forward. "Sir, I fear her adjustment to the role that she must play will be a difficult one."

"It should be difficult. She has to know what's she's getting into."

"And do you know what you are 'getting into'?"

Bruce looked at Alfred, confused. "What are you getting at, old man?"

"She is a woman with very little of life's experiences to guide her. You must make the necessary adjustments in dealing with her."

"She is a warrior, Alfred. She was born to this life."

"She is first and foremost a woman -- a mortal woman. Something she has yet to confront." Alfred paused before continuing. "Her naiveté could lead to her downfall."

Bruce nodded his agreement. "I know that."

"Do you? There are some things that even you cannot teach her."

"What do you suggest? That I leave her to continue her path as Wonder Woman without the proper training?"

"No. But that you seek out help with those aspects of her training that are beyond you."

"Leslie?"

"Why, what a marvelous idea, Master Bruce. I shall call Dr. Thompkins and invite her to dinner this evening." Alfred began to climb back up the granite stairs to the Manor.

Bruce smirked at the retreating form of his butler. "Why? I'm sure you already made the necessary arrangements."

"Master Bruce, I am not a mind reader. How could I have possibly known that you would have derived such a brilliant notion?" Alfred asked as he stepped into the manor, closing the door behind him.

Bruce turned at the hint of movement behind him.

"Shall we begin?" Diana asked.

"No. I've arranged for someone to show you the basics. I'll become directly involved with the physical aspect of your training when your skills rise to a more proficient level."

Bruce studied her reaction. Her face hardened in barely controlled indignation. She had a quick temper -- something that she would have to learn to control.

"I am proficient. I'm no novice." He could almost hear the gritting of her teeth.

"Diana, Princess of Themyscira -- Wonder Woman -- is an easy target for any two bit thug wanting to make a name for himself. Not to mention your run-of-the-mill megalomaniacs like Cheetah." He stood and faced her. "You are no match for any of them," he said, then waited for the inevitable.

He stopped her fist from connecting with his jaw mid-swing, which only served to fuel her fury. With her free arm, she attempted the same maneuver, but he easily stopped it as well.

Then her knee sought to connect with his groin.

Dropping to a crouch, he swung one leg out, sweeping her feet from under her. The result was an unceremonious landing upon her ass.

He heard faint giggles from the uniform vault. "You will train with Robin, and master each technique before advancing to the next level." Dick emerged from the shadows and Bruce continued. "Dinner is at six sharp. We'll discuss your new job with the Wayne Foundation and lodging at that time." He left them alone, leaving no room for debate.

* * *

Her heart thumped widely as she tried to gain control of her emotions. Anger, disappointment, fear all fought savagely for center attention. Then she looked up and saw a boy approach, -- no older than ten -- garbed in bright red and yellow, holding out a green gloved hand to help her to her feet. 

"Hi. I'm Robin. But you can call me Dick. Batman said you'd be training with us. And Bruce said it was okay that you knew my real name," he said in one breath.

She took his hand gratefully, rising to her feet. "You speak as if he is two individuals."

The boy smiled and she was sure that the room was suddenly brighter.

He shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

She rubbed her back side and she wasn't sure if she really wanted to get used to it.

"Come on. We've got a lot to do before dinner. And believe me, you don't wanna be late for dinner," he said.

"Why is that? Does Batman, or Bruce, get upset with you?"

He smiled again. This child seemed to love to smile. "Here's a trick to help you keep track of it. When he's upstairs, he's Bruce. When he's down here, even if he's not in uniform, he's Batman. And no, it's not Bruce you have to worry about upstairs. It's Alfred. He doesn't like it if you're late. Says its bad manners."

"I guess it's good that Bruce has his servant instill manners in his son," she said.

The child blushed. "Oh, I'm not his son. I'm his ward. And Alfred gets even madder at Bruce if he's late."

"What is a ward? Where are your parents?"

The boy's face suddenly fell. The sadness radiating from him was palpable. "My parents were killed two years ago. Bruce took me in. He understood what it was like."

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"'Sokay," he said then smiled again. "Anyway, Alfred just doesn't like bad manners."

They both sat in the chairs facing the computer. "How is it that a servant has such authority?"

"Servant? Alfred's not a servant. He's family."

She frowned in confusion. "He told me earlier that he'd been in service to the family, not that he was related to them."

"He's not 'blood' related. He raised Bruce after his parents…you know," he whispered, and his face saddened again.

"Bruce's parents do not live here?"

"You don't know? Bruce's parents were killed when he was eight. Alfred became his guardian. Just like Bruce is mine."

Robin began warm up exercises as Diana mulled over this new bit of information. There seemed to be more to Batman than she'd realized.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you Djinn, Heybats, and Athena Phoenix for the beta. 

**NOTE (Please read to better follow the story):** I wanted to go back in DC time to tell a story when our heroes were young and somewhat naïve. Therefore, in this story, Dick Grayson is ten years old and is Batman's partner Robin. Wonder Woman is still fairly new to Patriarch's world and its customs, having only been here for a few short months. I'm using mostly the 'Trinity' universe, but will also implement some story elements of Gotham Knights and Wonder woman Volume 1 Issue 1.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own much, but if I owned any of these characters, I'd probably own a heck of a lot more.

* * *

Leslie paced the expanse of the library. "Bruce, you can't be serious."

Leslie often wondered where she'd gone wrong--how she'd failed the child of her friends, Thomas and Martha Wayne. Despite her best efforts, she felt helpless as she watched Batman consume what was left of Bruce.

"She asked for my help," Bruce said.

"I couldn't stop you from the course you've chosen for yourself. Nor, could I stop you from leading Dick down the same path. But I won't help you lead others down this violent road."

"Leslie, you know as well as I that Master Richard has thrived under Master Bruce's training. Being Robin has given him an outlet for the turmoil that rages within him since his parents' death," Alfred replied. "And Miss Diana is hardly new to this life. She simply needs to learn how to cope without the powers that previously directed her work as Wonder Woman.

"Some of us are born into this life, Leslie. Diana was born for this life," Bruce said.

"I know you believe that, Bruce. But there were other paths you could have taken. You _chose_ this path -- a path from which I tried to steer you away." She sat heavily on the sofa.

"This is an old argument, Leslie. You could never understand." Bruce stood motionless at the edge of the fireplace, beneath the portrait of his parents, and Leslie knew that he was talking about that horrible night.

"I couldn't possibly understand because I haven't experienced the hell you and Dick have experienced? You may be right. But right and wrong are not interchangeable."

"I know right from wrong, Leslie. That's why Batman exists. To keep what happened to me -- to Dick -- from happening to anyone else. To do the job the police have been too inept to do."

"And who gave you that authority, Bruce? Who do you answer to in this self-proclaimed undertaking?"

"To them. Every night, I answer to them." He motioned to the portrait of his parents.

Leslie pressed him further. She knew she was one of the few who would stand up to this man. "Is this the life they would've wanted for you? Would they approve? And what about Diana? She's mortal now. How long before she, like you, begins collecting scars across her body as a consequence of this life?

"Diana's no novice. She'll learn to take care of herself."

"You're taking advantage of her.

"She came to me. The choice is hers."

"She needs time to adjust before making such a decision."

"That's why you're here. To help her adjust to her new life," Bruce said. "She hasn't been here long enough to know the hardships people face on a daily basis. Her role at the Wayne Foundation will bring her into a world she's never seen before. You can train her. Show her how to be effective."

"Leslie, you must agree that much has been achieved since Batman became Gotham's guardian, and we are all safer for it," Alfred said.

Leslie often wondered what happened to make Alfred support Bruce in this insane endeavor. She remembered a time when they'd both discouraged Bruce from the path he'd chosen for himself, maintaining silent vigils on countless nights, wondering if the boy they'd raised would make it home from his nocturnal quest--and the all too often occasions when he'd returned bloody and beaten. But it seemed that Alfred had long resigned himself to the knowledge that Bruce would not change, and through time, she felt he'd eventually been placed in the position of enabler.

"At what cost, Alfred?" Leslie stood and faced Bruce. "Bruce, this is an opportunity for Diana to get out of the Superhero business. To use her fame and history to resolve matters peacefully."

"She's both a diplomat and warrior. She will settle for nothing less."

"Only because she knows no other way."

"Then teach her. Show her our world's methods of peace, and I'll teach her how to be an effective warrior. Both are vital to society."

Leslie regarded Bruce before turning away. Thinking. Remembering.

She remembered Bruce's passion for expanding the Wayne Foundation--a charitable organization founded by his parents to help Gotham's poor. Under Bruce's direction, the foundation had become one of the largest charitable organizations in the nation. In addition, Bruce's personal philanthropic ventures were not common knowledge, but Leslie was aware of them, and she had to admit that Bruce had often used peaceful methods to better society, and to help those less fortunate.

She berated herself for forgetting. For letting Batman make her forget.

If only he'd turn away from the violent path he was so intent on taking. She resolved, however, never to give up on him, and hoped Diana would eventually choose a path other than that which she was accustomed.

She inhaled deeply. "All right, Bruce. You win. I'll help, Diana. But on one condition…she does not actively become Wonder Woman again, until both of us are satisfied that she is ready."

Bruce nodded.

Leslie exhaled, at least partially satisfied. "So, when does she start work at the Foundation?"

Bruce smirked. "As soon as I tell her she has a new job."

* * *

The dining room was massive, but the intimate family dinner filled the expanse with warmth. Diana marveled at the idle chatter between this odd little clan, especially when it involved a man she'd only known to grunt and glare his intentions on the battlefield. Dick seemed to bring out such a different side of him. She couldn't help but feel homesick for her own family, but immediately cast the painful feeling aside, instead focusing on the reason for her being here tonight, and becoming impatient with this familial display.

She was eager to continue with the business of her training.

Alfred cleared the remnants of dinner, and Diana watched as his gaze was caught by Bruce, who nodded imperceptibly toward Dick.

Alfred straightened and folded his hands behind his back. "Master Richard, I do believe that it is nearing your bedtime, and your homework is not yet completed."

"Oh Alfred. Do I have to?" Dick looked from Alfred to Bruce, and Diana wondered how either man could ever deny this child a thing.

"It's getting late, chum, and Diana and I have business to discuss," Bruce said. "I'll be up to check on you later."

Dick placed his napkin atop the table, and then stood. "G'night everyone."

Leslie stood and grabbed Dick in an embrace. "Goodnight Dick. And don't be a stranger. I'd love to have you visit the clinic more often."

"I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, Dick. I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose." She knew she'd be training with Dick again, and despite Dick's obvious skills, she was disappointed. She was anxious to take Batman on directly. To validate her competency to him. She then berated herself for feeling the need to prove herself to this man.

"Night, Diana. See you tomorrow."

After Dick left, Bruce reached into his jacket and retrieved something from the inside pocket, throwing it to land on the table in front of her. Diana picked up the white card which had her name embossed on it.

"What's this?" Diana asked.

"That's your security access card into the Wayne Foundation building and your new office."

"My new what?"

"You start work day after tomorrow. You're the new executive in charge, answering only to me," he said. "Leslie will help you get to know the people who are most affected by the foundation."

"You're offering me a job at your company?"

"Yes."

Leslie was silent, but she seemed interested in Diana's reaction.

"I'm here to relearn to fight. Not to procure a job."

"Training comes in many forms."

"This job is a part of my training?"

Leslie leaned forward and folded her hands atop the table. "The Wayne Foundation has been beneficial in providing basic needs to Gotham's disadvantaged. The Foundation also provides low income housing, jobs, healthcare--I could go on and on."

"What does all that have to do with me?"

"There are other means to fight injustice. Surely as an ambassador, you realize this," Leslie said.

"As a non-powered mortal, you need all the tools you can find at your disposal. This job is not just about seeking justice, but working at the root of the problem. Giving people choices. Reaching them before they turn to crime," Bruce said.

She contemplated what Bruce and Leslie were telling her, but she couldn't help but feel manipulated. She fought to keep her anger at bay. "I can do those things without your help. I came here to train as a warrior, not an executive."

She was beginning to suspect that Bruce was testing her ability to control her emotions. Another aspect of her training, no doubt. Clark was right. Bruce was good, but this was more than what she'd bargained for.

Bruce sat motionless, watching her. "Teaching you to fight is easy. Showing you how to survive isn't, and I won't do one without the other."

"It seems you are doing much more, Mr. Wayne. You've planned my life without my input." Her voice was dangerously low.

"The choice is always yours, Princess. You don't have to take the job. But I'd advise against turning it down."

"And why is that?"

"Because, my dear, you are still new to this world. You need to know just who it is you will be fighting for," Leslie said.

"I know diplomatic protocols. I'm not new to this."

"You learned those protocols by attending social galas held by the so called elite, who used you and your status to advance their own agendas." Bruce paused before continuing. "You've yet to dirty yourself in the trenches."

She stiffened at the insinuation. "I am more than willing, and able, to do what it takes to get the job done. I've never backed down from a fight." She pushed her chair back roughly and stood. "I don't need your help."

"Yes, you do." Bruce displayed no emotion. His tone was cool and even, making Diana's temper flare even more.

"Diana, Bruce is offering you an opportunity to make a difference in the lives of many people. Isn't that what your mission here is about?" Leslie asked.

Leslie's words cut through the cloud of pride she'd been hiding behind ever since her powers were stripped from her. Especially where Batman was concerned. She was surprised to realize his respect meant more to her than she was yet willing to admit.

She sighed and settled back into her seat, but caught him as he wielded a satisfied smirk--apparently admiring her unprecedented ability to stifle an outburst.

She turned at the clearing of a throat. "Excuse me, sir. But it seems you are needed elsewhere," Alfred said, and nodded toward the window.

Diana stifled a laugh at the sight that greeted her when she looked out of the window. The image of a bat, illuminated against the pitch of night.

Leslie answered her unasked question. "That my dear, is Commissioner Gordon's method of contacting Batman."

"Ladies. If you'll excuse me." Bruce stood and turned toward Diana. "We'll discuss your living arrangements when I get back."

Diana rolled her eyes wondering how many more surprises she'd be willing to accept.

"Be safe, Bruce," Leslie said.

"Always." He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then left to meet with the Commissioner.

Diana turned to Leslie. "Is there trouble in Gotham? Is that why the Commissioner has summoned Batman?"

"Must be. Gordon usually doesn't use the signal unless it's something the police can't handle," Leslie replied. "It seems that the police have been less inclined to handle a lot of situations of late."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, they rely too heavily on Batman."

"But if he can be of help, is that such a bad thing?"

"By asking for his help, they've sanctioned his mission."

"You don't approve?"

"Don't get me wrong. Bruce is the best at what he does. What I don't condone is his methods," Leslie said.

Diana was surprised at this woman's candor. "I've worked with Batman. He is a great warrior, albeit an arrogant one." Diana smirked.

Leslie laughed out loud. "Oh dear. You are certainly right about that."

"What methods don't you condone?"

"I'm a pacifist. I don't believe that the violence Batman perpetrates on the criminal element will have a lasting effect," Leslie said. "That's why this job at the Wayne Foundation is important. It will give you the opportunity to correct some of society's shortcomings. To reach people before they choose a life of crime."

Diana contemplated Leslie, and realized that there was truth to this woman's words. She leaned forward, enjoying her company, and thinking that this new job might not be a bad idea after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you Djinn, Heybats, and Athena Phoenix for the beta.

**NOTE (Please read to better follow the story):** I wanted to go back in DC time to tell a story when our heroes were young and somewhat naïve. Therefore, in this story, Dick Grayson is ten years old and is Batman's partner Robin. Wonder Woman is still fairly new to Patriarch's world and its customs, having only been here for a few short months. I'm using mostly the 'Trinity' universe, but will also implement some story elements of Gotham Knights and Wonder woman Volume 1 Issue 1.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own much, but if I owned any of these characters, I'd probably own a heck of a lot more.

**

* * *

**

On the roof of police headquarters, Jim Gordon lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The night was cold and misty, but the chill that ran through him had nothing to do with the evening's forecast. He'd been a cop for longer than he'd care to admit, and had seen more than his share of ghastly crimes. Most cops developed an emotional detachment vital to any normal person's sanity in a job like this. He was no different. Except on these types of cases, when the combined efforts of the police department--his department--failed to solve what Jim concluded was the work of a serial killer.

Another crime scene. And although the causes of death were identical, the victims' profiles were not, with no obvious connections between any of the victims or their families, except that they all lived in Gotham's least savory of neighborhoods, the East End. A once prosperous and vital part of the city, the East End had been steadily overrun by hoods and crime lords, with prostitution and drug trafficking their main source of income. The culture of corruption had become so rampant that its arms reached into the very heart of Gotham, eventually leaving its mark within the confines of the police itself. But, with the help of Batman, Gordon had been able to make enormous strides in sifting out his crime-ridden home, eventually establishing firm protocols, and strengthening morale. But his department still had its limitations. They were slow to react, and a killer was at large. He needed help. He needed Batman.

"What is it?"

Gordon jumped, and then berated himself for being surprised. He was expecting his arrival, but Batman had a way of startling him, nevertheless.

"I've come to believe that you enjoy scaring the hell out of me."

There was no reply. There wasn't even a sign that Batman had heard him, but Gordon knew that he had. Batman wasn't one for small talk. Gordon kept trying to get this man to open up, and he wasn't sure why he bothered, except that on some level he'd yet to figure out, this man was a friend.

He took another drag from his cigarette, and then threw it to the ground, grinding it beneath his shoe. "I need your help. There was another murder. A man and woman, shot to death in their home."

"Same scenario?"

"Looks like it. Forensics isn't finished with the sweep of the crime scene to make that final determination." Gordon handed Batman a folder. "This is everything I have from the previous murders. There's not much there." The Commissioner turned to leave. "My boys are expecting you at the house."

He turned around for some sort of rebuttal or acknowledgement that he was heard, but Batman had already disappeared. "I hate it when he does that," he muttered, then buried his hands deeper into his coat pockets, slowly walking back into the building.

* * *

The bed was soft and warm, and Diana enjoyed the luxurious feel of the soft fabric against her bare skin. The cozy and seductive contact of such opulence, however, did nothing to soothe the anxiety that had gripped her since losing her powers, and that had worsened since she'd agreed to have Batman train her. The arrangement was turning out to be more than she'd bargained for. 

She folded her arms on top of the covers, and stared at the ceiling. "He treats me as though I am a child, unable to take care of myself." She began to mutter Greek curses under her breath at Batman and his controlling manner. "Who does he think he is? A god? I know plenty of gods and he's definitely no god."

Sighing, she took a calming breath, analyzing events since that fateful day when she awoke to a mortal existence, knowing that any mistakes she made henceforth could cost her life. She pushed aside her feelings and sought the truth, not willing to allow her pride to cloud her judgment--something she'd practiced in her life as Wonder Woman, with her lasso guiding her. But the lasso no longer worked, and she wondered if its magic had disappeared completely, or if it was ineffectual only when she touched it.

She closed her eyes in her soul-searching attempt, praying to the gods who had abandoned her. "Dearest Athena, please do not look away. I need your guidance."

Silence.

"You've been at my side since birth, why do you turn from me now?"

Again, silence.

The gods had created her determined spirit, and she would not give up on them, even if they had given up on her. She would learn to accept their punishment, even if she didn't completely understand what she'd done wrong. How she'd lost their favor.

Her thoughts drifted to her home when she'd had their blessing, but quickly returned to this world. To one person in particular.

"Kal." The sound of his name in the empty room gave her comfort.

She knew that Kal had been right. She needed help. And if she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that Batman was a brilliant warrior whose methods were sound. She also realized that she would have to adjust her life for the sake of safety, something she'd never had to consider before, and she wanted to scream at the annoyance of it all.

Then there was her new job. She'd been hesitant at first, but now realized that the Wayne Foundation was the perfect platform for her mission. Thankfully, Leslie was there to soften Batman's arrogant manner in offering her the job. Or had it been Bruce Wayne? She must remember the roles that he played since he put such importance on secrecy and stealth, something she couldn't understand, because she'd never hidden in shadows and preferred to confront problems head on and without delay.

She glanced at the clock. "Two a.m."

Another string of Greek epithets escaped her lips. She pushed back the sheets and stumbled blindly in the dark for the closet, stubbing her toe on the chair and then cursing its presence in her life. She used to be able to see in the dark. She used to be able to do a lot of things that were so foreign to her now that she'd begun to wonder if her previous existence had only been a dream.

She fumbled blindly for the light switch, finally managing to turn it on, but then squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught of sudden illumination. She blinked until she was able to open her eyes wide, and then marveled at the sight in her closet—her entire wardrobe had been meticulously arranged and was at her disposal.

"Now, Alfred could definitely be a god."

She could get used to this indulgence, but she had no intention of staying in this house longer than was required. She was anxious to begin her new life, but also realized that Batman had been right; she needed him, which caused another round of curses to fly forth in the room.

Diana scanned her garments which hung tidily side by side, but didn't find what she was looking for. She sank to her knees, sitting on her heels, realizing that her life's possessions were displayed before her in this closet, and they, like her, were lost among strange surroundings and even stranger customs. She grumbled at her inability to fight as she once had. To stand up against injustice and pummel it with her once powerful blows. She missed the action. The adventure. The thrill of the hunt.

"Artemis, of all the gods, how could you condone this? You've stripped me of my very soul."

She fought the tears that threatened to overtake her, but as she lowered her head, she saw a familiar case on the floor and flung it open. Grabbing her uniform, she clutched it tightly against her chest, remembering the hard-fought battles she'd won to possess it. She quickly changed, overcome with the need to feel like herself again, to remember who she once was. Snapping the bracelets in place, she smiled, coiling her golden lasso and placing it in its familiar spot at her hip. Now she would go to the Batcave to work off her fears and regrets in the gym, knowing that Wonder Woman still existed.

* * *

It had been a long night. Gathering evidence at the scene of a murder had never been easy, but Batman had learned long ago to force down his emotions, to focus on the job. He was anxious to begin the arduous work of forensic analysis. There was much to be done before the killer struck again, so when he pulled into the Batcave to find Diana working out in the gym, he groaned in irritation. 

He exited the car, then walked past her, ignoring her looks of greeting, and placing the various samples he'd acquired from the crime scene on the table in his lab. He knew she wanted to talk, wanted answers to questions about her training. She deserved answers. But he wanted to wash away the stench of death that seemed to cling to him on nights like these. Then he would face her.

The shower was hot, just the way he liked it. The near-scalding water hit and softened twitching muscles that had tensed throughout the course of the night. He could feel the relief rolling through him, making him feel human again-until reality once more reminded him of his responsibility to Gotham and to solving the crime that now rested on his shoulders.

He walked out into the chill of the cave and found her sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing him.

"We need to talk." She stood and waited, but he was silent and moved past her to the lab.

He slipped on the white coat that hung from its hook on the wall and readied his equipment to run a battery of tests.

"What are you doing?" she asked and stepped closer.

He placed a sample on a glass slide and slid it under the microscope. He peered down through the scope's lenses as he answered, "I'm running an analysis of the samples I obtained at a murder scene."

"Isn't that a job for the police?"

"I do it better." He tried not to smile, but only managed to partially contain it. She, however, did smile.

"Samples of what?" She sat next to him and seemed genuinely curious.

He carefully turned the microscope toward her. "Here. Look."

She peered through the lenses, her face contorting in apparent confusion. "What is this?"

"A human hair."

"And what does this hair tell you?"

"Look closer. What else do you see?"

"Just a black hair."

"At the very tip, you'll see the white follicle."

"Yes. But I don't understand its relevance."

"It tells me that this particular hair was forcibly removed from someone's head, along with several other hairs that are in police custody as evidence," he said. "And, it'll tell me a lot more once I run DNA fingerprinting."

"What will you do with the results?"

"The results will let me know if this hair came from the victim or the perpetrator. If it's the perp's, it can be used in his capture and subsequent conviction."

Diana nodded. "In your justice system."

"Yours too, Princess." He turned his attention back to the hair follicle, but felt her gaze as it remained steadily focused on him. Waiting.

He straightened, faced her, and after a brief pause said, "Today, Leslie will take you to Wayne Enterprises' residential suite. It will be your temporary residence until you can find lodging of your own. Once you begin receiving a salary, you should have no problem finding something more than suitable," he said. "There is also a scheduled press conference, where Bruce Wayne will introduce you, Diana of Themyiscara, formerly Wonder Woman, as the Wayne Foundation's newest chief executive."

"I'm still Wonder Woman. That has not changed," she said, and his gaze shifted from her tiara to her red boots.

"I can see that," he said but continued undeterred. "Bruce Wayne will also explain the functions of your position and our goal for the Foundation to expand its resources both locally and abroad."

"I see."

"We will rehearse answers to potential questions that the reporters are likely to ask."

She nodded. He watched and waited as she pondered what she'd been told.

"Kal is a reporter. Will he be there?"

Bruce smirked. "Metropolis' Daily Planet will no doubt send a representative to the conference. I'm guessing Clark Kent and his partner Lois Lane will be in attendance." He turned back to his work.

"When will you train me to fight?"

Bruce didn't look up. "I told you. When you've mastered what Robin has to show you."

"I'm not a child. I am ready for more."

He looked at her briefly. "Then prove it."

How much more do I need to prove?" she asked. "You act as though everything you've known me to be, never existed."

"You're in a new ballgame, Princess."

"I haven't lost the ability to fight, Bruce. I understand that I need to make adjustments."

"Your entire way of life will need to be adjusted."

"I know."

The words were whispered. Did she understand?

"I do not find criminals by looking under a microscope. I face them head on. I bring them to justice," she said.

"Then you won't live long enough to make a difference."

She clenched her fists, but she looked more frustrated than angry. "I cannot change who I am."

"Who you are is not in question. What you do, and how you do it, is."

She turned away.

"Diana, you don't have to do what I do to be successful in your mission. But you do have to take precautions if you want to survive."

"This isn't easy for me, Bruce."

"What you want isn't easy." Bruce wouldn't make it easy. He couldn't. Her life depended on his training.

"I'll do what you want. But that doesn't mean that I'll always agree with you."

Bruce smiled. "I never expected you to."


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel Caspian turned on her bathroom sink and placed her bleeding hand under the running water.

"Damn," she muttered when the blood cleared from the wound, and she was able to see the extent of the injury. The cut was deep.

She'd been back in Gotham for only a short time. She didn't think she'd ever come back home, but the town needed her. Its children needed her. The city had its hands full with madmen such as the Joker, Two Face, Riddler. So much so that the less colorful loons usually escaped without notice, to continue to prey upon the city's most innocent victims.

"I will protect them. I'm the only one who can."

Rachel remembered the promise she'd made to these victims. Victims who unknowingly left clues for her to find these less colorful madmen, who just happened to be their mothers, fathers, neighbors. Bringing them through the justice system would be complicated and messy. The children needed a quick and easy resolution to their plight, and Rachel knew how to do just that. She would make certain that justice was served. Just like her father did not so long ago.

He was the Reaper. Gotham's first vigilante.

Tonight, justice had taken an ugly turn, however. She'd misjudged the accused. Had thought he was dead, but he'd been only half dead, it seemed. She'd been sloppy and had earned herself a nasty knife wound because of it. A bloody knife wound that could be problematic if her DNA was ever entered into any type of criminal database. Unlikely, but Rachel wasn't happy about leaving behind any type of evidence, let alone blood.

She grinned—at least, the evil bastard's daughter was free from his abuse. Rachel would now see to her welfare. The children's center she ran at St. Michael's gave her the ability to do just that.

She wrapped the still bleeding hand in a towel and left for the East End clinic, just a couple of blocks from the church. She would be above suspicion there. After all, who would believe that a nun was Gotham's new serial killer? Certainly not Leslie. Leslie loved her.

* * *

"_Mister Wayne, The Wayne Foundation provides many charitable services both locally and abroad, yet you spoke of expanding its reach within these regions. Is Wonder Woman qualified for such a daunting job?"_

Diana felt like she'd been sucker punched. What was to have been a routine press conference to announce her new position at the Wayne Foundation, had turned into a witch hunt, led by one reporter. A wanna-be Pulitzer Prize winner from the Daily Planet. That's what Bruce had called her. Diana had a few other choice names she'd given to Lois Lane.

"_Mr. Wayne, don't you think that Wonder Woman's previous role as 'warrior' will do more harm than good?"_

Diana stepped out onto the balcony of the Wayne Enterprises corporate suite and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly. It'd been a bad day. Bruce had told her that he didn't think the speculative questions would develop into a story. That his responses to Ms. Wanna-Be's carefully manufactured inquiries had deflated whatever scandal she'd been intent on creating. However, Diana couldn't help but feel outraged that someone would use her this way. She wouldn't be the only one hurt by such a scandal. It would also hurt the Foundation and those who benefited from its efforts.

"_Even with the loss of her powers, she can be an intimidating presence to some who know her by reputation only. It smells of extortion, given that part of her job is to raise funds."_

She hit the balcony's side wall with her fist and then yelped in pain. She'd forgotten that she was no longer blessed by the gods.

"Of all the stupid…" She cradled her hand to her chest and thought how displeased Bruce would be. He had warned her. She was still reacting as Wonder Woman.

"Here, let me take a look at that."

She spun around, surprised to see Kal standing there, looking like a god who'd flown down from the heavens just to say hello. He noticed her surprise. She could read it in his face. And something else, too. She wondered if it was pity that she was seeing.

"I'm fine."

"I just want to see if anything's broken." He held out his hand and waited. "Please?"

Blood began to trickle from the torn skin as she placed her hand in his. She sighed. He was coming to her rescue again.

His gaze was intense, and she guessed that he was using his x-ray vision to check for broken bones.

"It's not broken, just bruised." He held onto her hand and grinned. That dopey little grin that Diana loved. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"No…I don't know. All this"—she nodded her head toward the suite—"belongs to Bruce's company. I haven't had the chance to check much of it out yet."

"Let me take a look."

Was he scanning the suite?

"I'll be right back."

He went inside, but she remained on the balcony, sat on a lounge chair, and found herself wishing for her other life. But she stifled the thought almost as quickly as it had appeared. She'd promised herself she'd no longer dream of such things.

"Here we go." He smiled when he returned and opened a box marked with a large X.

She gave him her hand and watched him clean and bandage the wounds she'd inflicted on herself. "You've done this before."

"I grew up on a farm. We had our share of minor mishaps."

She never considered Clark Kent to be more than an alter ego, until now. "You grew up in this world?"

"My real parents sent me here when I was very young. The Kents raised me as their own son."

"Clark Kent. It's the name they gave you, then."

He nodded.

"And Kal?" She winced at how angry she sounded. Not angry. Disappointed. Why hadn't she known?

"The name I was born with. On Krypton."

"Do you remember your world?"

"No. This is the only home I remember."

"Clark Kent is who you are, then. Not Kal. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It never came up." He shrugged. "You never interacted with Clark, just Kal…Superman."

She shook her head. "You sound like Bruce."

He laughed. "That's not a compliment, is it?"

"I just never understood the need to hide who I am."

"If people knew that Superman was Clark Kent, it would place the lives of those I love in jeopardy. It's safer this way."

She just nodded, unsure of what to say.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"You looked a little shell shocked after the press conference. I thought that Bruce would've better prepared you for it."

"He tried to. But, I don't think that anyone can be prepared for Ms. Wanna...Ms. Lane." She sighed. "How do you work with such a woman?"

"Oh, I manage." He grinned, and Diana could see a hint of crimson spread across his cheeks.

"How can she believe such things of me? She doesn't even know me."

"She's a reporter, a darn good one. It's her job to look at an issue from every angle." He touched her arm. "It really wasn't personal."

"She was trying to create a scandal where none existed. That makes it personal." She stood. "Why do you protect her?"

He chuckled. "I'm always protecting Lois, it seems. She has a way of getting into trouble."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"To be honest, Lois is the most remarkable women I've ever met."

Diana's shock must have registered with him, as he blushed and quickly changed the subject.

"You never answered my question. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Really. My training is progressing, albeit slowly, but I've come to terms with my situation. And I'm actually excited about this new job."

"And Bruce…"

"…is the most aggravating man I've yet to encounter."

Kal laughed. "Well, that's Bruce. But he's the best at what he does."

"That's the worst part. He's been right about my training. Right about a lot of things." She pointed a finger at him. "But don't you dare ever tell him I said so."

He laughed again, and she found herself laughing, too. It felt good to laugh.

Soon the laughter fell into a comfortable silence.

"I should go."

"So soon?"

"I still have rounds to make in Metropolis."

She smiled and lowered her head, suddenly embarrassed. She faced him again when she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.

"Diana, you're doing great. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you."

He squeezed her shoulder, and all too soon, left her alone, standing on the balcony that wasn't hers, facing a life that shouldn't be. But she would make it work. She would fulfill her calling. Her mission.

* * *

Leslie was tired. She took the rare occasion of a slower-than-usual day at the clinic, to turn in early and catch up on much needed rest. She'd grown used to little or even no sleep through the years, but it would eventually catch up with her. It always did. Her head hit the pillow, and she closed her eyes, but then an insistent knocking at the clinic door made her rise and pull on a robe.

At times like these, she'd wondered if she made a mistake in not taking Bruce up on his offer of a place of her own. But that would leave the clinic with no one to answer the middle of the night emergencies from those too frightened to go to the hospital. She had to admit that most of these occurrences were from fugitives not wanting to garner undue suspicion from hospital staff. She'd always been discreet about these things. It was her job to save lives, and if she had to be here twenty-four hours a day to do it, so be it.

She opened the door and gasped in surprise. "Rachel? Honey, what happened?"

She placed her arm around the younger woman and guided her into the clinic. Blood was seeping through the towel she had layered around her hand.

"I feel so stupid. I was trying to get a head start on tomorrow's lunch. Was dicing some vegetables and the knife slipped, somehow."

"Let me take a look."

Leslie carefully unwrapped the bloody towel from Rachel's arm, dabbing the blood away with gauze. It would need several stitches.

She placed a clean compress over the wound. "Here. You hold this tight while I get my supplies."

"Supplies?" Rachel's voice was nervous—the voice Leslie remembered when Rachel was a child and had one of the many injuries children tend to get.

"You need a few stitches, dear. I promise I'll do this as quickly as possible."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one deathly afraid of needles." Rachel winced. "Or blood."

Leslie laughed. "Your mother was squeamish, too. God rest her soul."

When Leslie began to stitch up the parted skin, Rachel became unusually quiet. "Are you all right? Not going to faint on me, huh?"

"I'm fine," Rachel answered, but refused to look at Leslie or anywhere near the area of the needle and thread.

"How are things at the center?" Leslie tried to take Rachel's mind off of what she was doing.

"Busy," she replied, her voice strained as Leslie drew the thread through her skin. "I never did thank you for telling me about the position at St. Michael's. There's so much work to be done, but so much potential, too."

"When Father Timothy told me he needed someone to run the center, I knew you were the right person for the job. You have a big heart, dear. And I'm selfish, too. I wanted to see more of you."

"Gotham is home. If only I could chase away a few demons that seem to live here."

Leslie nodded. Judson Caspian, and the revelation of his double life as Gotham's Reaper, had come as quite a shock to everyone. More so to Rachel, who'd idolized her father. "I imagine it was difficult for you to come back."

"It helps to know that maybe I'm making a difference."

Leslie placed a clean bandage over the stitches. "There you go. It'll be good as new in no time."

Rachel jumped down from the table and examined her freshly bandaged hand. She was silent for a moment, then faced Leslie.

"Leslie, how's Bruce?"

Leslie paused, then busied herself with clean up. "Oh, you know Bruce, dear. He keeps himself busy. There's always a party, it seems."

Rachel sighed. "You know as well as I do that's not who he really is."

"I know." It was Leslie's turn to sigh. Rachel didn't know of Bruce's nocturnal life, but she knew the real Bruce Wayne. The one that was so rarely seen anymore. "He misses you, dear."

"I hurt him. I know I hurt him."

"You were both hurt. Sometimes life leads us on different paths."

"It doesn't make it any easier, though."

Leslie had hoped that Rachel would bring light into Bruce's life. She'd done just that for a little while, so much so that he'd have left his life as Batman to marry her. But then this business with her father…Leslie shook her head. It was best not to relive the past. And who knows. Maybe there was still hope for Bruce. Somewhere. Possibly closer than Bruce would even suspect.

"No. It doesn't. Now come on, you can sleep in the spare room…"

"No. Really, I'm fine. I need to get back. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Honey, it's late and these streets aren't safe."

Rachel hugged the older woman. "I'll be fine. Really."

Leslie kissed her cheek. "Call me when you get home. So I'll know you're safe."

"I will. Promise."

"Good night dear."

With a sigh, Leslie closed the door behind Rachel.

"Will she be alright?"

She'd suspected that he was here. Watching from the shadows.

"You'll have to face her eventually, Bruce."

"Robin, follow Ms. Caspian. Make sure she makes it home safe."

"Dick? I didn't even notice you. You're getting as good at hiding as Bruce, here."

"Really? Thanks, Leslie." The boy seemed to float on the praise.

Bruce placed his hand on Dick's shoulder. He never offered much verbal praise, but the pride he felt for Dick was obvious. "Meet me on the roof of the museum for surveillance in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Dick slipped through the door without a sound. Leslie shivered at the thought of him following in Bruce's footsteps. Lord knows, she'd tried everything in her power to steer Bruce down a path other than what he'd chosen. He and Dick were so much alike. And yet, Dick seemed to retain much of his childhood exuberance. There was such a spark of light within him. Something Bruce had seemed to lose as a child. No. Dick would follow his own path in life. And she suspected that Bruce, in his own way, was helping Dick retain his love of life, even if he struggled to do so himself. She just wished that the world was such that the likes of Batman and Robin were no longer needed.

"Will she be alright?" he repeated the question.

"Yes. The cut was deep, but clean. She'll be fine." Leslie touched his arm. "Come, let me fix you a quick cup of coffee before you have to go."

He didn't move. Didn't make a sound. Leslie knew that he wanted to talk. She also knew what he wanted to talk about.

"Rachel's doing well, Bruce."

"Is she happy?"

Leslie shook her head. "I don't know. I think she's doing what she thinks is the right thing."

He seemed to contemplate her answer. He could relate to it. "Does she need anything?"

Even though they were no longer engaged to be married, Bruce would always look after Rachel's well-being. Of this, Leslie had no doubt. He had a big heart, whether he liked it or not.

"St. Michael's children's center could use the help of The Wayne Foundation. They have great promise under her guidance."

That seemed to satisfy him. "I'll talk to Diana tomorrow and make sure Rachel gets everything she needs."

"Batman"—Dick's voice surprised Leslie, who nearly jumped out of her skin. "I know you told me to meet you at the museum…"

Leslie put her hand to her chest, trying to still her racing heart . "Dick. You scared the daylights out of me."

"M'sorry, Leslie. I didn't mean to scare you."

Leslie placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You are as good as him."

Dick literally beamed at the praise, which made Leslie smile.

"What is it, Robin?"

"The Batsignal. It's lit up."

Bruce regarded Leslie with a nod, but didn't budge. He then leaned down and kissed her cheek—something he rarely did, anymore—and left without another word.

Leslie touched her cheek. "I know you're still in there, Bruce Wayne." She smiled and closed the door.

* * *

Diana rappelled from the roof of a dingy apartment building and managed to land next to Batman on the rusty fire escape next to an opened window. She'd been practicing her rappels and climbs in the Batcave, but that had been nothing like the excitement of swinging down from the roof of this old building while fighting the buffeting downdrafts of wind caught in the small space between her target and the neighboring structure. She now understood the need for the constant training Bruce put both himself and Dick (and now her) through.

Bruce had surprised her with an invitation to join him at the scene of what could be another serial killing, having sent Dick home early; it was a school night, after all. Well, maybe not invited. More like grunted a command. She marveled at how much he was able to convey with little to no words at all. Bruce never talked much. Not since she'd known him, anyway. He didn't need to. She'd always read his movements on the battlefield and fell in line with his actions, as he did hers. It was the same with Kal, too. The three of them didn't need words; they just knew.

"Did you find something?" she asked as he stood stock still, staring at a particular spot on the metal railing.

He dabbed the spot with a piece of cotton, placed the cotton in a small plastic bag, and put the items away in a compartment of his utility belt.

"Blood."

"Our killer's?"

"Possibly," he said, then connected a line onto the railing, rappelling to the street below, with Diana close behind.

"So, we go through the front door, after all?"

"On occasion," he said. "The police are expecting us."

Diana had been learning the fine art of criminal science from Bruce and the importance of evidence preservation. So she walked into the room behind him, matching her footsteps with his, not wanting to corrupt potential evidence. She looked around the room, startled at what she saw. She'd been reading up on the serial killer's previous crime scenes, which didn't compare to this very bloody one.

"What do you have, detective?" Batman asked a large man with a tan coat and an incredibly malodorous cigar.

The man jumped.

"Freakin' bat." He grabbed the cigar from his mouth and made a roaming gesture of the room. "What does it look like?"

Diana stood her ground as Batman moved to take a closer look at the body, and grinned at the surprised look on the large man's face when he saw her.

"Wonder Woman?"

"Yes?"

"I wasn't expecting you here. I thought you were out of commission."

"And you are?" she asked, her hand extended in greeting.

"Oh." He put the cigar in his mouth, wiped the palm of his hand down the side of his coat, then took her hand to shake. "Detective Harvey Bullock, Gotham PD."

"Nice to meet you, Detective Bullock. Now, why would you believe that I was out of commission?"

"I heard you lost your powers, is all. Especially didn't expect you to be doing this type of work, crime scenes, that is. And with big and scary here, too."

Diana grinned. "Does Batman have powers, Detective?"

The man grunted. "No. But the commissioner might think different."

"Are you implying then, that I cannot do this type of work without my powers?"

"What? No. I just…well…it's just a surprise, you being here."

"Then shall we get down to business?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, ma'am."

She turned to look for Batman, but found an empty room instead.

"See what I mean? Disappeared without anyone noticing. The commish is convinced he's got powers."

"There's a blood trail through here."

They heard Batman's voice before they saw him emerge from the shadows.

"No shit, Sherlock. There's blood everywhere," Bullock said with another sweeping gesture of the room.

"Was there a struggle back there?" Diana asked, mentally drawing various scenarios as Bruce had taught her.

Batman shook his head, and she continued with her assessment. "It looks like he was shot twice in the back of the head, just like the other killings."

"Not too sure our serial killer is responsible for this one, though. Same MO, except for all this blood. A few stab wounds, too. The other killings were clean gun-shots to the head. Probably a different perp, or more likely there were two perps, considering the knife," Detective Bullock said, taking a draw on his cigar. He blew a ring of smoke her way, and the stench of it almost made her retch.

"Our killer could have run into unexpected trouble," Diana said, mostly to herself. She paused, studied the physical evidence of the room.

"I've been doing this a long time. After a while you get a feel for these things. Believe me, it was two perps. One popped him from behind while the other one knifed him."

"Would you want your partner pointing a gun in your direction, Detective Bullock, even if there were a stationary head between you and the gun?"

"No."

"Then why would two perps do just that? It doesn't make sense. I think we have one killer, who shot the victim from behind, but he didn't die as expected. The killer was probably standing over the victim, gloating, which means the crime was likely personal, rather than financially motivated. There are no other blood trails that I see, just here, and in that room." She nodded her heard toward the room where Batman had been. "Does it have a fire escape?" she asked Batman.

"Yes."

"Since there are no signs of a struggle in there, it's likely that it was the escape route of our killer." She turned toward the detective. "But, we won't know for sure without the proper forensic analysis."

The slightest of smirks washed quickly over Bruce's face. Diana had to stifle a grin. She'd impressed him, and she was surprised at how that made her feel.

"Tell the commissioner I'll be in touch," Batman said.

"Detective, it's been a pleasure," Diana said, and followed Batman out into the night.

* * *

Diana was tired. She supposed that she would have to get used to late night patrols with Batman and early morning meetings at the Foundation. At least until she established her own way of doing things, her own city to do them in, perhaps. She glanced back down at the reading material on the Wayne Foundation and its sponsorships, but was surprised when her office door swung open and Bruce Wayne, in all his playboy glory, sauntered in and plopped himself down in a chair.

"Wanna do lunch?" His grin was wide, wicked, and more than a little disconcerting.

He propped his feet up on the desk. Perhaps for the first time, Diana noticed how handsome he was and wondered how much more appealing he must be with a genuine smile. This one was definitely for show, which made her wonder why, since her secretary had closed the door behind him.

She looked at her watch, then back at Bruce. Three-thirty in the afternoon. "Don't you think it's a little late for lunch?"

"I'm not much of a slave to time." He leered at her. Now she was very confused.

She looked around the room, leaned forward, and spoke in a harsh whisper. "We're alone, Bruce. Why the act?"

Bruce's smile widened, and he winked. "Oh, I don't know. You never know who might drop by."

The door suddenly opened.

"Bruce. I heard you were in the building." Hayden Foxworthy, VP of the Wayne Foundation. His position was just below Diana's. Something he wasn't too happy about.

Bruce looked at Diana with a "see I told you so" expression, then stood and faced the man, his hand extended. "Hayden. Good to see you."

"What brings you to our neck of the woods?" Hayden's voice boomed through the room with a familiarity that Diana was certain was for her benefit.

"Oh, you know…business." Bruce looked back at Diana with that damned wicked grin. She couldn't help but grin back, feeling a little flushed by this type of attention.

Hayden laughed a laugh that she swore was code for, "yeah, I bet". Winking at Bruce, he continued, "Well, when you need to talk about the Foundation, you know where my office is."

"I'm sure Diana is up to speed on whatever Foundation business I might need to discuss. I hand picked her, after all." Bruce's expression hadn't changed, but his tone had.

Hayden noticed it too, it seemed.

"I see."

"I certainly hope you do,"

Hayden left without another word, closing the door hard behind him.

"He's going to be trouble."

"Hayden Foxworthy is a good businessman who fails to recognize his shortcomings. But he's no fool. He knows exactly where he stands."

"Well he certainly does now if he didn't before," Diana observed. "Was that the only reason you came down here, to show him up?"

Bruce moved to the window. He was quieter than usual, which certainly said a lot, and Diana could almost see him wrestling with his thoughts. She waited.

"St. Michael's Church on the East End of town has a children's shelter, run by Rachel Caspian. She's a nun there. They could use the Foundation's help."

"All right. I'll give Sister Rachel a call this week."

"Call her today." His tone was harsh, which he must have regretted since he cleared his throat and bowed his head. "I'd appreciate it if you went to see her. She's a friend. And the cause is important to that end of town."

"I'll see her first thing in the morning."

That seemed to satisfy him as he turned to leave.

"Bruce?"

He stopped and turned back.

"Is that offer for lunch still good? I haven't eaten yet, and I'm starved."

And there it was—a genuine smile. Not the smile of the playboy, or of the Bat, that is if the Bat were even capable of smiling. This was the first real smile she'd seen from this man. She smiled back, grabbed her things, and went to lunch with Bruce Wayne.

To be continued.


	5. Chapter 5

_Just a short installment... More to come._

**The Calling  
**_by DC Lady_

The door was open, and Diana peered inside, finding Rachel Caspian gazing out of the office window. She knocked on the door's frame. "Sister Rachel?"

Rachel turned around. The sister's office was plain to say the least, but she was anything but. Her natural beauty radiated despite the habit she wore.

Diana stepped forward. "I'm Diana, with the Wayne Foundation. I was hoping for a moment of your time."

"Oh my! Wonder Woman?" Rachel walked across the room with an outstretched hand, a bandaged hand. She pulled it back with a look of embarrassment, then noticed Diana's own bandaged appendage. "Looks like we were both a bit reckless."

Diana smiled. "It would seem."

Rachel lowered her hand and motioned Diana to a chair, sitting in the one next to her. "I heard you were working for Bruce, but I never thought I'd get to meet you."

"Bruce asked that I stop by. See if there was anything the Foundation could help you with. I must say, I'm impressed with what I've seen so far." Her walk through the church's grounds had proven enlightening. Children at work and play, scattered throughout the facility.

"There's plenty of opportunity for this place, but so little help."

"I would think people would be eager to help children."

"People are eager to pretend there isn't an east end in their city, let alone children who go hungry, have no place to live--you name it. It makes it easier for them to sleep at night."

Diana shook her head. "What can I do to help?"

Rachel looked at Diana, seemingly skeptical and yet hopeful. "You really want to help?"

"Yes, I do. And so does Bruce."

"We need funds, there's no doubt about it. But we need awareness even more. We need people to care about these children."

"What do you suggest?"

Rachel stood, paced the small expanse of her office, evidently giving Diana's question some thought. "It won't be easy."

"Something worthwhile rarely is."

"Wonder Woman's image will certainly help. A series of lectures at various civic groups, perhaps. But before you do that, maybe an event to kick start things into action?"

Diana smiled. She knew the perfect event, even though she loathed attending them. "A charity ball?"

Rachel smiled. "These events are boring and pretentious, to say the least. And the perfect occasion to get people to care about a specific problem, especially when they get publicity for doing so."

"On one condition. You and I do this together. It's important for people to know you and what your plans are for the center."

Rachel frowned. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Diana was confused, which must have been obvious to Rachel since she began to explain. "There are some issues concerning my father which may cast a cloud on our efforts."

"Is your father a criminal?"

"My father is dead, and his past actions were well intentioned, but yes, he was a criminal."

"Are you a criminal?"

"What?"

"You're not your father. I don't see a problem."

Rachel sighed. "But you're not Gotham's social elite, either."

"We do this together." Diana was adamant.

Rachel took a breath. "All right. Together." She sat back down in the chair. "So how is Bruce? I haven't seen him since I've been back."

"Bruce is well. Wayne Enterprises keeps him busy. I know he's been personally putting me through the hoops."

Rachel looked down, and Diana couldn't mistake the look of regret on her face. She suddenly wondered what type of history Rachel and Bruce had shared. "How do you know Bruce?"

"He didn't tell you?" Rachel shook her head. "I forgot who we're talking about. Of course he didn't tell you."

Diana laughed. "You do seem to know him well."

"He's not at all what he seems to be on the surface, as I'm sure you've come to realize. Most people see a mindless playboy, but that's not who he really is. That's not who I fell in love with."

"In love?"

"Bruce and I were engaged to be married. Once upon a time."

And just when she thought she had Bruce figured out. "I didn't know."

"It seems like such a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"My father happened," Rachel said. "I'm sorry. You didn't come all the way down here for my life's story."

"He must have loved you very much." Diana thought Rachel must be an extraordinary woman. She couldn't see Bruce loving any one who was less than extraordinary.

Rachel looked thoughtful. "Yes. He did."

It was obvious Rachel's feelings for Bruce had been deep, maybe still were. Diana swallowed, wondered what it was like to be loved by a man and to return that love. She thought of Kal, then quickly cast aside the thought. Better not to dwell on what could have been. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dredge up painful memories."

"Painful? Yes. And wonderful. I wouldn't trade them for anything. No matter what the eventual outcome." Rachel took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. Not anymore at any rate. And I have the children. There's so much work to be done here."

Diana stood. "Then I suggest we get busy."

Rachel walked Diana to the door. "Just let me know what I can do to help. I used to be quite the socialite."

"Maybe we can meet again at my office? Next week, perhaps?"

Rachel took Diana's hand. "Thank you, Diana. I just know we can do great things for this place, for the children."

Diana squeezed Rachel's hand. She was excited at the prospect of such a task. "I'll call you to schedule for next week."

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Diana thought she'd had Bruce figured out, but then she'd spoken with Rachel. And now as she watched him gazing out over the city, his dark cape billowing gently in the breeze, she wondered if she'd ever really known him at all. Or maybe she'd known only what he'd allowed her to see. She had the feeling he was very good at compartmentalizing himself but couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

Bruce leaned forward, leg perched upon the roof's ledge, arm resting on his knee. The pose was strong, determined, lonely even. He hadn't moved much in the past hour and had said even less--just watched and waited for the unlucky criminal who would decide to test the Batman's resolve to protect this city. This was the man she'd known Bruce to be--the one she'd fought beside.

Diana sighed, growing impatient with the silence and more so with her endless analyzing of one Bruce Wayne. So she decided to try to get him to talk to her. To pass the time since Hera only knew how much longer they'd be on this rooftop. "I met with Rachel Caspian today."

He didn't react, his expression as unreadable as always. She wasn't sure why she expected some sort of response--or why she was looking for one in the first place.

"I was impressed with her accomplishments at the center. She's quite a woman."

"Yes, she is," he said so softly that Diana had to strain to hear him.

"Have you seen the facility?" She knew he hadn't seen it but couldn't seem to stop from asking, still looking for a reaction. Something, anything that would let her see the man Rachel had spoken of today.

But he didn't answer.

"You should. It's impressive." Diana turned, sat on the ledge, facing him. "I'm meeting with her again next week to discuss a potential charity gala for the center."

Bruce turned slightly and looked at her. She guessed he was dubious.

"Can you think of a better way to raise funds?"

He turned his gaze back to the city. "I could just write a check."

"That wouldn't raise awareness for those children. They need more than just money. They need hope."

He nodded.

"And I think Rachel can certainly help provide that for them."

His silence continued, and Diana was growing weary of carrying the conversation alone. She stood, stretched, and stifled a yawn.

"Let's go," he said suddenly, aiming his grapple gun into the night.

"Where to?" Hopefully not another rooftop surveillance.

"The cave."

"My place isn't far from here. If we're calling it a night, I think I'll just go home."

"You can stay at the Manor tonight. I have something to show you." With that, he was gone.

So much for small talk. Diana shrugged, following Bruce into the night.

The cave seemed darker than usual, but it was late and Dick was probably asleep, so the lack of lighting was to be expected. Bruce exited the batmobile, made his way to the dimly lit laboratory.

Diana smiled, following him. "You found something, didn't you?"

He pulled off his cowl, pointed to the chart on an easel.

"What is it?"

"Those are the DNA results from our possible killer."

"Did you find a match in the police database?"

"No. And they don't match with anyone living in the apartment or building."

"You obtained DNA from everyone in the building?"

"You'd be amazed what you find in the trash." Bruce must have seen the look of disgust on Diana's face. "Detective work isn't always pretty, Princess."

"You got Dick to do it, didn't you?"

"Of course." He nodded toward the easel. "Take a look."

Diana scanned the chart. Bruce had been teaching her about DNA and how to recognize various components to conclude a match. She looked up at him, astonished. "Are you sure?"

Bruce looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She grinned. "Of course you're sure. But a woman? Our killer is a woman."

"Possible killer."

"This would certainly…"

"Narrow down the possibilities?"

"What do we do now?"

"The same thing we've been doing. That might not be our killer."

Diana nodded. "But it's a good chance it is."

Bruce smirked. "Yes."

She sat down. "What could be the motive?"

"There are too many possibilities to pinpoint anything specific. We need more information."

Diana nodded then yawned.

"Alfred has your room ready."

She stood, moved past him, stopping at the base of the stairs. She looked at him over her shoulder. He was placing pictures of the victims on a large board next to the DNA chart. She guessed he would do more work on the case tonight and wondered if he ever got a full night's rest. "Goodnight, Bruce."

He looked at her and grinned. "Goodnight, Diana."

She awakened with a start at the sound of someone shouting--a bone-chilling cry that sent chills down her spine. She ran into the hallway, followed the sounds to Bruce's room but stopped short of entering when she found Alfred sitting on the side of Bruce's bed, whispering words of seeming reassurance.

"Master Bruce. You are safe at home. It is only a dream. Wake up, lad."

When Bruce continued to shout and thrash in bed, Alfred's voice grew stern. "Bruce, wake up!"

Bruce's eyes opened wide with a look of pure panic. Diana had to wonder what type of dream could have shaken him this much. She'd never seen Bruce ruffled in the slightest, let alone this frightened.

He took deep breaths as Alfred placed a wet cloth on his head.

"Will you be all right?" Alfred asked as he stood to leave.

Diana decided to leave before either man could see her, but turned only to find Dick standing in the hallway.

"He'll be okay," Dick said, sounding as if this was a normal occurrence.

"He does this often?"

Dick nodded.

Diana turned when she heard Alfred close the door.

"Master Dick, it is very late. Back to bed with you, young man."

"Can I stay with Bruce? Just in case he has another nightmare."

Alfred smiled. "He will be fine. You, however, are a growing boy and need your sleep."

"But he always stays up with me when I have nightmares."

Alfred knelt on one knee to face the child. "I promise to wake you if he has another one."

Dick seemed to think about it before nodding and heading back to his room.

Diana watched his retreating form before turning to Alfred. "Will Bruce be all right?"

"He's fine now."

"That wasn't just any nightmare, was it?"

Alfred sighed. "No. But it is one that has haunted him for a very long time."

Alfred was about to leave when Diana stopped him. "Something happened to him, didn't it?"

"It was a long time ago."

Alfred looked tired, but must have seen the concern on Diana's face. "I think I can use some tea. Care to join me?"

"Yes."

Diana took a sip of tea. "He watched his parents die?"

"Yes."

"I often wondered what motivated him. Now I know."

"He was young. It changed him. And I fear it will forever haunt him."

"He has this dream often?"

"If not this particular dream, there are others. He's seen a lot of tragedy, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman."

Diana stood, kissed Alfred on the cheek. "Thank you for telling me."

Alfred smiled. "You are welcome, my dear. However, a word of advice? It is not a subject he is comfortable discussing."

Diana understood--or at least was beginning to understand. She smiled and nodded. "Good night, Alfred."


	7. Chapter 7

Standing on a side of the crowded ballroom, Diana and Rachel had an unhindered view of Bruce and his date at the other end of the room, the sea of guests parting as if they knew Diana wished it. Her curiosity was getting the best of her, although Rachel seemed to treat the spectacle as nothing out of the ordinary.

"She certainly has an impressive figure." Diana cocked her head to the side and appraised the woman that Bruce held close to his hip.

"Don't let her size fool you, she definitely didn't grow that way naturally," Rachel said, and the woman suddenly threw her head back and laughed at something Bruce whispered in her ear.

Diana winced at the sound that reminded her of the screeching owl that kept her up most nights on her island home when she was a child. She'd eventually found the owl and relocated it to the other side of the island. She didn't think relocating Bruce's date would prove to be as easy a task especially since he didn't look like he'd give her up without a fight.

Rachel grinned. "Painful, isn't it?"

The cackle rose in volume when Bruce leaned in, and Diana was sure if he got any closer they'd be standing in the same spot.

"Bruce doesn't seem to mind. She must be…nice." Not that she cared. But he looked so different as he smiled and flirted, just like he'd looked that day in her office when he'd known Hayden Foxworthy would drop by. It was an act then. She didn't doubt it. So why was she doubting it now? And why did it matter to her?

"She's Gotham's current media darling and the perfect opportunity for Bruce to convince the world that he's a hopeless playboy. I never understood that side of him." Rachel turned to Diana and eyed her silently, then leaned closer and whispered, "You're jealous. Aren't you?"

"What? No." She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Was she jealous?

"Mhmm." Rachel took a sip of her water.

"He's a friend. And my boss."

"And a good man."

"Yes." A very good man. And dark. And brooding. And a great deal of things she never imagined would have attracted her. Kal was her type. Full of hope and light and truth. Just like her. But Kal wanted Lois and Diana wanted…no one.

Thankfully, Rachel didn't pursue the topic, her attention turned to the approach of a guest. She visibly stiffened.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just an old acquaintance. His daughter comes to the center."

"His daughter?"

"Children who need help come from all social backgrounds. Even children whose parents attend these things."

The man walked toward them as if he hadn't a care in the world. His smile and obvious delight in seeing Rachel a sharp contrast with her attitude.

"Rachel. It's been a long time." His extended hand was ignored.

"Yes. A long time."

"You look good," he said, he slipped his hands into his pockets.

"A clear conscience does wonders for the skin."

The man laughed nervously, but Rachel's gaze never left his, her expression darkening by the minute.

He cleared his throat and extended his hand to Diana. "You must be Princess Diana. I've heard so much about you."

"Pleased to meet you Mr…?"

"William Ashford. But please, call me Bill."

"Bill. It's a pleasure."

"How's Christine?" Rachel asked, her voice thick and harsh.

"Christine is fine. Wonderful." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out pictures. "She's fifteen going on thirty, I think. Kids grow up too fast these days. That's why I'm donating to this cause. Maybe my little sum can help other parents rest easy at night."

"Or in some cases, it serves as a shelter for children from their parents."

Ashford's smile never faltered. "I guess there is that in your line of work. Thank goodness Bristol is worlds apart from what you must see everyday, Rach."

"Oh, I think there are skeletons in Bristol, too. Bill."

Ashford frowned, no doubt certain that he was being affronted, but apparently from the look on his face, not sure why. He looked about to respond when Bruce clasped his shoulder from behind.

"Bill. It's good to see you. How are Pam and Christine?"

"They're both fine. Thank you for asking, Bruce." He nodded to the buffet table. "Pam's grabbing us something to eat. I'll have her see you when she's done."

"It's been too long. How about lunch this week?"

"I'd like that. It was nice meeting you, Diana." He turned to Rachel but didn't quite meet her gaze, and with a muttered, "Rachel," he left to meet his wife at the buffet.

Rachel turned, placed her glass on a nearby table. "I don't think my presence is needed here any longer. I'd like to get back to the center."

"We did a lot of good here tonight, Rach. A lot of money, and awareness, was raised." Bruce leaned closer and kissed her cheek. "Congratulations."

"It's a start. Unfortunately, we have a long road ahead of us." Rachel looked over to where Ashford and his wife were dining and with a frown, left.

"Something wrong?"

"I'm not sure." Diana watched Ashford and his wife for a moment then turned to Bruce with a grin. "It looks like you're having a good time. For a man who despises these things, that is."

"I'm counting the minutes when I can make a hasty departure."

"You may have to tear your date away." A date that was clearly enjoying the attention of several men and a few photographers.

"I don't think she'd enjoy patrolling the city."

Diana was shocked. "You're going to ditch her?"

"I'll leave her here to enjoy the rest of her evening. Alfred will make sure she arrives safely at home. Her home." Bruce's teeth gleamed when he smiled. "Besides, she's not my type."

Diana wondered if Bruce had read her mind. "Then why ask her here as a date?"

"It's less complicated that way." Bruce out his arm. "Care to dance?"

Diana looked over at his date. She had her arms wrapped around an elderly man, laughing in the same manner she had with Bruce. She turned to Bruce, placed her arm in his. "I'd love to."


End file.
